


Excuses

by sekiharatae



Series: Behind Closed Doors [16]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, PWP, Porn Battle, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-12
Updated: 2009-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekiharatae/pseuds/sekiharatae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He blames the dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excuses

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Sex in public/semi-public.

His shirt was silk: sleek and soft and tight, clinging in a way she planned to emulate in the near future. For now, she enjoyed the novelty of something other than wool or cotton under her fingertips as she slid her arms up and back to wrap loosely around his shoulders.

It was a blatant demand for attention. Not that she was feeling neglected: he was a hard, constant presence at her back, her bottom brushing against his groin as they moved together to the music. Strong hands were steady on her waist and hip: warm when they brushed the bare skin of her stomach, teasing as they stroked along her side and the sensitive skin on the inside of her arm. But more attention was always a good thing, as the hot-and-cold shivers down her spine proved when he scraped his teeth along her throat, and snugged her hips more firmly against his arousal.

Eyes closed, she let him guide the slow roll and grind of their bodies, her slim form relaxed against his slightly larger one, her fingers at his nape to press his mouth closer. This form of dancing was a kind of foreplay, made all the more titillating by the fact that they were in public. Especially when his explorations became more daring: fingertips slipping inside the loosely draped bodice of her dress to skim the swell of her breasts, or inching the hem of her skirt higher as they traced patterns on her thigh.

Taking her hand he spun her around to face him, his leg slipping between hers to provide more friction, his palm on her bare back a possessive brand. Twining her arms around his neck, she snaked her body against his, nipples hard and obvious through the material of her dress, mouth open to press kisses to the skin exposed by his collar.

 _Closer. More. Cloud!_

Soft blond spikes brushed her cheek as he dipped his head to skim his lips lightly along her shoulder. Her dress revealed more than it covered, offering a wealth of creamy, sensitive skin for exploration, and he was more than willing to take advantage, scattering kisses over neck and shoulders while his hands wandered freely. When they slid down her back and _inside_ the stretchy, clingy material to cup her buttocks and pull her closer still, part of her wanted to be embarrassed, while the rest of her basked in the possessive display, the feel of him, and the thrill that they were all but fucking on the dance floor.

Above her head, a sweeping glare from glowing SOLDIER eyes turned even the most inquisitive glances away, affording a strange sort of privacy amongst the throng.

When the song ended, his hands withdrew, arm curving around her waist to guide her away to a dark corner. The shadows and the shelter of his body, combined with the promise of pain in his gaze should they be interrupted, made sure they had the secluded space to themselves.

And the loud, thumping music drowned out Tifa's cry of completion as he took her right there, against the wall; his voice husky in her ear as he blamed her excuse of a dress for his lack of control or propriety.


End file.
